


hold up

by ImSoSupernova



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/F, How to get over your abusive ex step 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 22:26:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11723859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSoSupernova/pseuds/ImSoSupernova
Summary: "He’s just gonna keep treating girls like this. Unless someone gets him to stop.”Sana runs her fingers through Noora’s hair. “What do you mean?” she asks gently.“Oh, I don’t know.” Noora sighs. “But I just wish someone would teach him that his actions have consequences.”





	hold up

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to caroline (@thekardemomme) for betaing my fic and to lizzie (@skamlesbians) for letting me use her as a sounding board for my ideas. for hafsia, always.

The first time Noora sees him she’s in the organic foods store two blocks from her apartment with Sana, searching for a fruit she used to eat in Spain.

“What’s it called again?” Sana squints at the sign above a bin of small, brownish fruits. “Mamey-- _Capote_? Like the American writer?”

"No!” Noora laughs. “ _Mamey Sapote_. It’s like a sweet potato. It’s good! Those are kiwis, though.”

“I know that!” Sana exclaims defensively. “I just wanted to make sure!”

“You sure?” Noora teases.

"Anyways!” Sana clears her throat pointedly. “Mamey Sapote, right?”

“...Yeah,” Noora breathes. She’s distracted by Sana’s lips, the way they curl and shape themselves around the sounds, unfamiliar through her Norwegian accent and absolutely adorable. “That’s right.”

“Okay.” Sana kisses her on the cheek. “I’m going to go look over there near the potatoes, okay?”

“Okay.” Noora squeezes her girlfriend’s hand and then watches her go, slowly letting her hand slip through her fingertips.

For a moment she just watches Sana go, her black hijab swaying from side to side as she walks. Then--

"Noora?”

 _That_ _voice_ …

Noora feels like she’s been punched in the stomach. _It_ _can’t_ _be_ _him_ _it_ _can’t be him it can’t he’s in London he’s with his father he’s GONE you don’t have to see him--_

But she hears her name again--”Noora!”--and somehow she regains her ability to move enough to turn around and _FUCK_! there he is, with his fucking floppy brown hair and his wide flat nose and his dark eyes that always seem to stare into her soul and leave her vulnerable, exposed, _naked_ \--

And then suddenly the bright lights and linoleum floors of the store fade away, suddenly she’s back in a stairwell with him looming over her mouth harsh and bitter and _did_ _you_ _sleep_ _with_ _my_ _brother_ and suddenly she’s in a park after he smashed a bottle on that Yakuza boy’s head and he’s sneering in her face and calling her naïve-- _stupid_ , he means, _too_ _innocent_ , _completely_ _unaware_ _of_ _how_ _the_ _world_ _works_ , and suddenly she’s in a brightly-lit kitchen and watching the light fade from her friend’s eyes as she slowly hands her the phone and whispers _it’s_ _for_ _you_ , and then she’s hearing his voice dark and demanding in her ear telling her to _go on_ _a date with me_ , _and then I’ll stop using your friend_ and suddenly she’s on her bed and his hands are against her bare skin and he’s murmuring _I know I should ask you if you’re ready, but I don’t care now_ and his weight is heavy, too heavy on top of her and she tries to tell herself _I’m ready I like this I like this I like this_ as she chokes down on her nausea and tries to herself _I’m just nervous this is normal I’m just nervous_ and then she feels her stomach rising in her throat and her heart’s pounding and all she can think is she needs to _get out_ \--

And so she turns and runs as fast as she can, stumbling over her feet and pushing past other customers, _anything_ to get herself _away_ from him, towards Sana, and then there’s a fruit stand in front of her and she’s dimly aware of pain in her hip and oranges bouncing and rolling over her feet and that she should probably pick them up but she can’t _quite_ get her body to move, and then Sana’s there and holding her face in her hands and murmuring, “Noora? What’s wrong? Noora? Are you okay? Do you need to leave?” and Noora’s brain is all fog and panic and all she can do is nod and whisper, “Sana--he’s back.”

 

In between, Noora lies on her bed with her head in Sana’s lap as she strokes her hair, and things are calm again. The blind panic from the store has faded away, and now, relaxing in the comfort of her own room with her girlfriend, Noora can think on what’s happened and sort out her feelings.

“How are you doing?” Sana asks her again, after Noora’s breathing has slowed and she’s closed her eyes.

“Better,” Noora murmurs, smiling up at her. “I just--I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see him, and then he was trying to talk to me and I didn’t know what to do. So--I panicked, I guess. Sorry for making a scene.”

Sana squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry about it, habibti. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Noora props herself up on her elbows. “Now that I know he’s back, I think I’ll handle it better next time I see him.”

“I’m glad.” Sana smiles. “Because that means we can go find that fruit somewhere else. That--what’s it called? _Mamey sapote_.”

Noora grins and wraps her arms around Sana’s neck. “That’s right, mamey sapote.”

Sana giggles. “Mmmm-mamey sapote.”  
“Mamey sapote, mamey sapote.” Noora kisses both of Sana’s cheeks. “It sounds weird if you keep saying it.”

“Huh.” Sana pulls her close presses her forehead against Noora’s. “Mamey sapote…”

Noora's phone buzzes and she picks it up to check it, then promptly flings it onto the bed. “ _Shit_.”

“What?” Sana picks it up. “What’s happening?”

 **Wilhelm:** why’d you run away so fast? was just saying hi ;)

“Oh, shit.” Sana breathes. Then it buzzes again.

 **Wilhelm** : we should hang out sometime, get dinner or something. catch up.  
**Wilhelm** : call me.

“ _God_ ,” Noora groans, flopping back down on the bed. “Why is he _like this_?”

Sana looks concerned. “Noora, you know you can always block his number, right? You’re totally within your rights to do that.”

“Yeah,” Noora mutters. “Yeah...I know. It’s just--I don’t feel like I should quite yet. We’ll see, I guess.”

“Okay.” Sana cups Noora’s face in her hand. “I just want you to feel safe, you know?”

"I know.” Noora wraps her arms around Sana again. “Maybe I should tell him about my _amazing_ girlfriend who I love a lot, hey?”

“Oh, of course.” Sana smirks.

"You know how I love to brag.” Noora kisses Sana on the forehead.

Sana smiles a little, but her face grows serious. “Stay safe, okay?” she whispers. “I love you.”

Noora hugs her close. “I will. Promise.”

 

The second time Noora sees him, she’s at a party on a Friday night, and the bass is thudding and the drinks are spilling and she’s curled up next to Sana in a sofa, talking and laughing and watching their drunk friends dance around like fools. Eva and Vilde are swaying with each other on the dance floor and Vilde’s just leaned in to kiss her when there’s a loud burst of noise from the front of the room and then she sees _him_ , standing in the doorway, and though it’s not as much of a shock as before her heartbeat still spikes, and Sana squeezes her hand. The two of them watch as Chris, William, and several other former Penetrators swagger into the room as if they never graduated high school, as if they’re still the cool, rich, popular guys who run Nissen.

"Some things never change,” Sana murmurs in Noora’s ear. Noora looks around at everyone’s faces; the shock, the awe, the reverence. Some people’s mouths have literally dropped open.

“Yeah,” she mutters back. Sana squeezes her hand again.

As quick as the moment started it’s over as all the Penetrator boys meld their way into the crowd, stopping to fist bump and hug old friends and wink at certain girls. Noora watches Penetrator Chris making a bee-line towards Eva, only to be disappointed as Eva greets him briefly and turns back to continue making out with her girlfriend. He stands there awkwardly for a moment, waiting for what, Noora doesn’t know, and then turns around, eyes searching the crowd for some new girl to seduce, probably.

"Noora,” Sana whispers, jolting Noora’s attention back to where she’s sitting. “I’m sorry but-- _look_.”

She points out towards the center of the room, where a brown-haired guy has wrapped his arm around a pretty blonde girl. He turns to plant a kiss against her cheek, and Noora sees his face. It’s William.

For a moment everything seems to stop, and there’s a rushing in her ears and she feels oddly like the wind’s been knocked out of her, like she just dropped several stories and left her body behind, and all the while she sees messages flash before her eyes, _you looked so hot in that photo Sana posted on ig_ and _seriously, let’s meet up. i’ll buy you a drink ;)_ and _you can’t just date me for six months and ignore me noora_ and so many others, and then she feels someone rubbing her back and whispering in her ear, “Noora, are you okay? Noora?”, and she looks up, into Sana’s dark, concerned eyes, and it’s enough to force the air back into her lungs and allow her to breathe, remind her that _it’s okay, it’s over, it’s okay and you’re okay_.

"I’m okay, Sana,” she whispers. “I’m okay.”

 

In between, Sana sits on her kitchen counter, watching Noora grate cheese into a bowl and sway a little to the music that’s playing over the speakers. She turns to smile at Sana and asks, “Do you want mushrooms? Or chives? Bell peppers?”

“Do you have everything in that bag?” Sana laughs, gesturing to the bag Noora had been carrying when she knocked on Sana’s door earlier that morning.

"Not _everything_ ,” Noora says, “just all that I’ll need to make breakfast for my _amazing_ girlfriend.”

Sana laughs, but Noora can see her blushing a little. “Oh!” Noora wiggles her eyebrows. “You know what I got?” She reaches into her bag with a magician’s flourish and pulls out an oblong brown fruit.

“Could it be?” Sana cries. “Is that... _mamey sapote_?”

“In the flesh!” Noora exclaims. “Do you have a blender?”

 

“So, what’s the occasion?” Sana asks after breakfast.

They’re curled up together on Sana’s couch, Noora tracing shapes on Sana’s palms. “The occasion,” Noora says, “is that I love you. So much. I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly. You’ve been so amazing this past week, even more than usual. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Well--” (Sana turns on her back so she can look up at Noora’s face) “--it was one of the tastiest thank yous I’ve ever received. So thank _you_ , I guess.”

“You’re very welcome.” Noora leans over and kisses Sana on the forehead.

They lay like that for a little while, Noora’s head against Sana’s chest, their hands clasped together. Then Noora murmurs, “She was his girlfriend.”

Sana lifts her head. “The girl at the party?”

"Yeah,” Noora mutters. “Since around April. He’s been texting me for the past week telling me how hot I look and how much he wants to meet up, and he’s been dating another girl the entire time.” She exhales. “I’m not even upset he has a girlfriend. I’m upset he’s treating her like this. Like she’s disposable. Like she doesn’t matter. Like he treated me. He’s just gonna keep treating girls like this. Unless someone gets him to stop.”

Sana runs her fingers through Noora’s hair. “What do you mean?” she asks gently.

"Oh, I don’t know.” Noora sighs. “But I just wish someone would teach him that his actions have consequences.”

"Yeah, I get that.” Sana nods. She leans back onto the couch and closes her eyes for a moment, thinking. She can hear the radio in the kitchen, playing a Beyoncé song. _Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you...slow down, they don’t love you like I love you_ …

“I think I may have an idea,” Sana murmurs.

 

Noora can’t stop giggling as she approaches the car. “This is such a _bad_ idea,” she laughs, “but it’s a _beautiful_ idea.”

Sana grins and shushes her. “Are you sure this is his car?” she whispers.

"Sana,” Noora says, “I’d know his rich boy jerk-off vehicle anywhere. This is it.”

"Okay.” Sana grins. “You ready?”

Noora looks at the shiny silver Porsche infront of them, and then at the baseball bat in Sana’s hands. “He deserves this,” she says.

"You first.” Sana nods at her.

Noora approaches the car slowly, scanning it over, trying to figure out the best place to start. _Hmmm_ …

She pictures William, sitting in his car like a king on a throne, leaning his head out the window to yell at girls walking down the street, holding her eye contact as he drives away after he asked her to meet up with him after school the first time, sitting in the car with him and telling him about her parents, before her friends, before the people she really loved. Her stomach clenches up. _He didn’t deserve it_. She thinks of William, sitting proud in the driver’s seat, wearing a pair sunglasses and acting like he’s the coolest person alive--

Noora drives her bat through the driver’s side window and watches it implode, the glass spraying across the padded leather seats. She winds up and strikes again, cutting an arc through the air. The left rearview mirror crumples on contact, the shards scattering themselves across the pavement like fallen stars. Noora pauses to take a breath, glancing at Sana.

“Good?” Sana asks.

“Yeah,” Noora breathes. “Good.”

For a moment, Noora stands there, staring into Sana’s eyes. Then the alarm starts, loud and shrill, piercing the night air. “ _Shit_ ,” Noora murmurs.

Sana just nods. “Quick.”

And then they begin.

After Noora’s third swing, everything else disappears. The world becomes the bat in her hand and the contact with metal and glass, spraying everywhere, and Noora swings and strikes again and again until it begins to give way beneath her, caving against her will, and suddenly she’s back in the stairwell, suddenly she’s back in the park, in that kitchen, in that bed, and then her bat caves through his windshield and all those moments disappear in a shower of glass, banished to the past, not gone, but unable to harm her anymore, and for a moment, Noora doesn’t feel sick at the thought of his hands on her body, doesn’t hate herself for letting herself submit to him that day on the stairwell, for a moment the bat is a part of her and the car is just an object, something she can shape as she likes. For a moment, she is in control of everything around her.

" _God_ , I love you,” Noora says to Sana afterwards as the two take a second to examine the damage. All the windows, plus the front and rear windshields, have been smashed out; all that remains are jagged shards on the ground, glittering and crunching under their shoes like freshly fallen snow. The rearview mirrors have been reduced to twisted plastic lumps, one of them lying, defeated, by the front tire, the other hanging onto the car for dear life. The hood and doors look like they’ve been through a rock tumbler, pitted and cratered and silver as the moon. 

Noora thinks it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. Aside from the girl standing next to her. 

Sana squeezes her hand. “Feeling better?” she asks.

“So much better.” Noora’s grinning wildly. She can’t help it.

“Good.” Sana kisses her on the cheek. “Now, we really need to get out of here.”

As she sprints down the street, Sana’s hand clutched tightly in hers and the night breeze whipping her hair, Noora finally feels free.


End file.
